


Artificial Night

by Chanonvic



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Abduction, Canon Divergence, Descent into Madness, Insanity, Sensory deprivation as torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chanonvic/pseuds/Chanonvic
Summary: Even her weapon-borrowed brute strength couldn't snap whatever was holding her bound. When she finally relaxed her arm in defeat, the tension in her restraints disappeared. A quick tug told her they were still there. She repeated the same with her legs with much the same result. She switched tactics and concentrated on transforming.She couldn't do it.--Or, Marie tastes Madness.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Artificial Night

She was almost certain that she had finally lost vision in her good eye. As absurd as the notion was, now confronted with the possibility Marie had to admit to herself that she'd harbored an irrational fear of going completely blind. She blinked rapidly, hoping to regain ocular function and figure out where she was. It didn't work.

Before Marie could completely give in to the reflexive fear of having a sense completely cut off, another pushed to the forefront of her mind. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the living room at the laboratory; how had she gotten to...wherever she was? She tried to pull her arms in so she could feel her way around, but something resisted the motion, pulling around her wrists in the opposite direction. Even her weapon-borrowed brute strength couldn't snap whatever was holding her bound. When she finally relaxed her arm in defeat, the tension in her restraints disappeared. A quick tug told her they were still there. She repeated the same with her legs with much the same result. She switched tactics and concentrated on transforming.

She couldn't do it.

Marie's eye widened, and she doubled her effort in mentally searching for the familiar form of her hammer self, holding her breath as she did so. Instead of the warm tingle and soft light of transforming, she was enveloped in a cool chill and impenetrable darkness.

"Hello?" she called out finally, if only to get a sense for how open her surroundings were. The word was quickly swallowed up, and she had a sudden claustrophobic thought that maybe she was locked in a box with her words trapped in her limited air supply. She panted as she screwed her eye shut and mentally forced herself to calm down. No, she couldn't be in something that small, she was strung up and hadn't felt a wall or other obstruction during her earlier thrashing, so she had to be in a decently sized room. A room, a _room_. Not a box. Not a coffin. No, she couldn't transform, but she had been _trained_ for that, taught not to rely on her other form for situations just like this.

When Marie had regulated her breathing again, she returned her focus to deducing her location. She strained her ears for evidence but could hear nothing beyond a distant and constant hum. It sounded mechanical – was likely a heating and ventilation system, which meant a power supply, which meant _modern civilization_.

Absent more environmental clues, Marie turned inward. Who would string her up in a dark room (at least, she still hoped it was dark, it beat the alternative) like this? Well, the Academy _was_ at war, that list was likely endless. And, loath as she was to admit it, she did live with a man prone to bouts of madness and more than competent enough to concoct something like this. Marie examined that possibility: she _had_ been at the lab, to her recollection, and the botched BREW mission could have tipped Stein just enough to –

 _No_. She refused to think it. Marie was aware how blurry the line was for her between faith in her friend and sheer naivete, but that wouldn't stop her from continuing to believe in Stein's fortitude because if she lost faith in that, what _could_ she believe in? So, her current captive had to be an enemy of DWMA. Arachnophobia made the most sense, since they were the most active and organized in their opposition to the Academy, but if they already had BREW, what would they also need with an Academy teacher? And how would they have gotten into the City to begin with, and then back out with the (presumably) unconscious body of said teacher? No, Arachnophobia likely wasn't behind Marie's abduction, which only left the rest of the incalculable list of dissidents.

Marie thought harder. It had to be someone who was familiar enough with not only the Academy but Death City, enough to get away with this in what she recalled was broad daylight. It was probably someone who had shown an interest in the Academy, maybe in weapons specifically, maybe had tried something in the past. Marie's eye widened in sudden realization. Had _tried_ something like infiltrating the DWMA.

Like breaking into the sublevels and reviving the Kishin.

Marie struggled against her restraints again, immediately angry and terrified at the mere thought of being held captive by Medusa: angry at the clear breach of the agreement the witch had struck with Lord Death and terrified because this was a _witch_ , after all, and she couldn't even move her arms. "Hello?" she called out again. "Show yourself!" she demanded.

Again, her words disappeared, and the monotonous hum continued as though she hadn't spoken at all. Only the slight strain in her throat was evidence to the contrary.

* * *

Marie didn't know how long she spent fuming and plotting and _waiting_ , only that the sound of her own breathing was her sole distraction. Her vision never adjusted, and so when bright light streamed into the room, her eye watered and she had to turn her head away. Something flickered in the stream, and when she squinted and looked back over, she saw a smallish figure standing there.

"Well, hello there," a voice came, serene and sultry and distinctly feminine. Marie had only heard about Medusa, never seen her even when the witch was locked in the Academy dungeon, but she was sure that was her voice.

Marie grit her teeth. "Where am I? Let me go now!"

"Now, why would I do that?" The figure stepped further into the room. "We haven't even been properly introduced."

"I know who you are, witch," Marie seethed.

The figure's tinkling laughter rang, setting Marie's teeth on edge. "It seems my reputation precedes me." She stepped into the room, and Marie's eye could finally focus on her. Although Marie knew Medusa had recently possessed the body of some poor child, the witch's voice projected the image of a grown woman in her mind. The reminder of Medusa's depravity made her squirm uncomfortably even more than her closing proximity did. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am the witch Medusa and your current hostess. And you are?"

"Release me," Marie demanded again.

"Hm. Not feeling particularly sociable, eh? That's okay, I've done my homework." Medusa's small face split into a grin, and Marie belatedly recognized amusement at an admittedly lame pun. "Marie Mjolnir, Death Weapon at the DWMA, originally stationed in Oceania but recently called back to Death City. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I would offer to shake your hand but seeing as you're tied up...."

At the mention of her restraints, Marie had to fight the urge to pull at them again. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm interested in getting to know you. We're going to be spending some time together, Marie, and you're going to aid me in my research."

"I'll do no such thing!" This time Marie did yank at her restraints, unable and unwilling to stop herself from trying to lunge at Medusa.

"Heh. I didn't expect you to agree just yet," Medusa said, still calm. "I'll leave you here to think it over. Perhaps you'll come around to the idea. I hope the accommodations are to your liking." And with that, Medusa spun on her heel and walked away, laughing as she did.

* * *

It took a while for the tension to bleed out of Marie. She thought that finally confronting her captive would've at least sparked some determination in her, but all it did was wind a ball of directionless and ultimately useless anxiety in her gut. She focused on her breathing, which helped ease the feeling. That done, her thoughts shifted to trying to remember what her confines looked like in the brief moments of illumination, hoping that by doing so she could figure out where, geographically, Medusa was keeping her. Even though she couldn't see otherwise, she screwed her eye shut to concentrate on remembering. The doorway had seemed excessively tall and wide, but that had to be only because Medusa's new body was tiny, right? Was a corner lit up by the light? That could give her an estimate of the size of the room. It had to be six feet across – no, maybe twelve. How many footsteps had Medusa taken when she approached Marie? Taking into consideration how short she is, that had to be a distance of about – no, wait, if Marie was suspended, then she'd have to add in another few feet and then –

She groaned in frustration. It was pointless. She couldn't compartmentalize details she had actually seen versus the details she _hoped_ were there. Forcing her memory anymore would just be the equivalent of daydreaming at that point. Hanging her head, Marie tried to clear her thoughts so she could come up with a new plan. Doing so helped her settle on one observation, and she laughed drily at it: at least she knew now that she hadn’t gone blind.

* * *

Marie winced at the onslaught of light and distantly wondered why she couldn't hear a door opening. She waited for the soft plodding of child's footsteps, barely registering that she was holding her breath. Even so, Marie tensed when Medusa's silhouette appeared in the frame.

"Hello again," the witch greeted serenely. With the light behind her and impenetrable darkness before, half her face was shrouded. "And how are you today?"

"Release me now," Marie demanded through clenched jaw. Her hands formed fists, but she resisted from pulling on her restraints this time.

"You seem dissatisfied with your quarters," Medusa replied calmly, the coy smile never leaving her face. "What a shame, after I've gone through all the trouble of designing this room _just_ for you. Well, if you're upset, you could always transform and free yourself."

Marie's body tensed, as though preparing to do just as Medusa suggested even though she knew it was currently impossible. She recognized the danger in revealing that weakness to such a powerful enemy, but there was no way around it: when Marie didn't transform to get out of the restraints, Medusa would know it was because she _couldn’t_.

Medusa seemed to arrive at that conclusion at the same time. Her smile widened into a satisfied and over-eager grin. "I guess that means you're here to stay." And once again, she laughed and left.

"Medusa, let me go! Now! Release me!" Marie called after the witch, but somehow her words were suffocated by Medusa's laughter. Both sounds cut off abruptly as the door shut, and once again Marie was plunged in darkness.

* * *

Counting had crossed her mind. She would have been able to keep at least _some_ record of time's passage, and barring that it was at least something to occupy the time. Even so, she couldn't muster the energy or focus to start, not with concerns for what Medusa had planned for her and if the Academy was looking for her and who was taking care of Stein pressing against the front of her mind like the thoughts had physical presence. When the thoughts got to be too much, she would inhale a large breath, hold it, then sigh it out again. It was her only comfort, the only bodily sensation she had control of and a sound to cut through the thick silence.

* * *

Marie's thoughts only darkened, as though the darkness of the room was seeping into her mind. It had become quite clear that she was meant to spend the rest of existence in that room, which made her itch, which in turn made her pull lightly at her restraints as she involuntarily tried to rub and scratch and soothe the affected areas. Of course, her restraints never gave, and she would almost always give a frustrated cry before hanging limp in defeat and trying to distract herself from the discomfort.

Her mind oscillated between inventing new ways to escape and the futility of doing so. A few times she wondered if she could chew through her own arm to free herself. Each time the thought grew more tempting, which, she admitted once with a self-conscious laugh, was probably related to her growing hunger. Finally, she turned her head left and right, trying to find purchase on her clothes to give her the leverage necessary to start gnawing at her shoulder. She couldn't reach, so there went that idea.

Otherwise, escaping seemed hopeless, and her mind obsessed over what the others would do in her absence. Her students would continue to fight – of course they would, they still had the brazenness and naivete of youth to compel them – while the adults formulated battle strategies and coordinated covert operations, none of which included rescuing her, not after Lord Death had struck a deal with Medusa. Spirit might mourn her briefly; Azusa -- Marie's chest clenched whenever she thought of the woman – she would draw further into herself rather than grieve outwardly. But both of them would be duty bound to forget her. Stein, though – would he even notice her absence? Marie wasn't blind to the reason Lord Death had partnered them again, and without her guiding presence, the meister would irreparably fall into Madness.

Whenever she thought this last part, she could swear she heard a breathy sound just beyond her. The first time she heard it, she whipped her head around, forgetting temporarily that she still wouldn't be able to _see_ the person or thing.

"Hello?" she had called into the darkness, and was met with the same silence as always. Heart racing, she decided to forget the noise.

When she heard it again, she called out to it again: "Hello? Hello! Please help me! I'm trapped here!" No one responded.

After a few more times of hearing the strange sound, she did her level best to ignore it, realizing the person or thing or whatever wasn't going to respond, let alone help her (or maybe it couldn't). It took a while for her to realize the sound was _laughter_.

It took her longer still to realize it was her own.

* * *

The darkness began to take shapes. Marie had no rational way of explaining it. She knew that she still couldn't see, yet somehow there were figures and patterns in front of her, dancing despite the stillness. The harder she focused on them, the clearer they seemed to get, distinguishing themselves from the surrounding darkness with dimensionality. Despite their featurelessness, the figures were familiar to her – her family, her friends, her students all visited in turn. At first, they were friendly, waving and gesturing toward her before dissolving into the backdrop of the room. But they grew bolder with time, shaking in silent laughter at inside jokes she was not privy to, circling her predatorily, pantomiming dramatic deaths. By the time the figures began to act out the most vicious of her imagined fears, she had already learned to despise and recoil from the figures.

"Go away!" she yelled at them whenever they coalesced, and they would listen, dropping form at her command. But they always returned, and her head would pound with the effort of shouting them down, especially when they returned far sooner than they would have if she had just watched their sick performances. She lost count of how many times it happened, and eventually her throat burned with her shouts and thickened with tears.

After a while, Marie resolved to think of nothing at all.

* * *

It sickened her, but she couldn't deny the relief that stabbed through her when Medusa returned. She tensed up as the light poured into the room, welcoming it even as it burned her eyes, and waited to hear the footsteps heralding the witch's approach.

"My, my, you're a mess," Medusa said, her tone chiding like she was speaking to a small child. (The irony of the situation was squashed by the swell of excitement in her chest at the sound of _someone else’s_ voice.)

Marie didn't respond. She forced her eye to adjust to the sudden light so that she could see the witch, absorb the ocular stimuli she'd been deprived for who knew how long.

"I came to see if you were more amenable now, but I have to admit I didn't expect to see you broken already."

Marie wanted to argue that she _wasn’t_ broken, but that was outweighed by her desire to hear Medusa continue talking.

"So tell me, Marie Mjolnir, are you ready to leave this room?" Medusa smiled and held up a hand invitingly, her eyes gleaming.

The thought of leaving that room sent a shudder through her. Marie supposed the witch looked sincere enough, and wasn't this what she wanted? had asked for? had _demanded_? To be free? For Medusa to release her? It sounded right in her head, and she couldn't remember why it should be bad for her to obey the witch.

Something moved in the darkness, and Marie screwed her eye shut, expecting one of those horrible shade-like figures to reappear after she spent so long keeping them at bay.

Medusa's huff of frustration cut through Marie's attempts to _think of nothing think of nothing think of nothing_ , which forced her eye open again just in time to see the witch retreat out of the room. "I'll take that as a no," Medusa said, and the shaft of light once again narrowed as the door slid closed.

"N-no!" Marie cried, her voice broken from disuse. "Don't leave me again! You can't –!" The room was sealed again.

* * *

The boredom was a torture in its own right. Marie tired of emptying her thoughts. She welcomed the figures' return, thinking of clever new scenes for them to act out, feeding their appetite for the macabre by inventing new cruelties. Seeing her own musings performed for her no longer disgusted her; in fact, it was quite flattering.

* * *

She began to count how long she could hold her breath for to pass the time between the shadowy figures' disappearances and re-formations. Once, she imagined that she was underwater, hoping to inspire a longer record, but she almost thought it real, and only taking in a huge gulp of air that she was _sure_ would end her convinced her otherwise.

* * *

Maybe Medusa wasn't real.

* * *

"And that is why a meister must always catch their weapon," she said matter-of-factly to the audience of figures imitating her students. They all silently gaped at her in awe, and she preened at their attention.

* * *

Was she a woman pretending to be a hammer, or a hammer pretending to be a woman?

* * *

Whenever Marie got hungry or thirsty, she would pretend to eat or drink. Sometimes, her newfound friends would join her, and they would make an event out of it. Either way, she found the pangs of want disappeared after consuming her imaginary meal.

* * *

Maybe _Marie_ wasn't real.

* * *

Marie flinched when the light hit her face, and she fixed Medusa with a stern look even before she could properly see the witch. "You interrupted my lecture," she said in her most authoritative professor tone.

Medusa's eyes darted left and right before settling on Marie's face. Marie held out, waiting for an apology. (Even the most insolent of students eventually wavered under her scrutiny.) "I'm sorry," Medusa said finally, a small and contrite smile pulling at her lips. "But allow me to make it up to you."

All thoughts of her lecture vanished as Marie tried to guess the promise hidden in Medusa's tone. "How so?" She tried to play it casual so as not to seem too eager.

"I want to take you out of this room," Medusa replied. "I need help with a project, and you're the only one who can offer it."

Marie was flattered, honestly. The warmth of being wanted, being _needed_ , pricked at her skin. "Sure, okay," she said, trying to sound as put upon as possible.

Medusa's gaze bore through her, as petrifying as rumor had it, but not unpleasant. After a long moment, Medusa grinned. "Good," the witch said, and she slowly, deliberately raised her arms. They undulated as she muttered a spell, and suddenly Marie was falling.

She fell on her face, having forgotten her limbs and how to use them. She gingerly pushed herself up into a sitting position and checked to make sure her nose wasn't broken. The sensation of her hand on her face – of skin to skin contact, really – startled her, and she laughed at how foreign but soothing the feeling was, even as the dark fluid leaked from her nose.

**Author's Note:**

> This spawned from a simple premise: what if Medusa had abducted Marie instead of Stein? 
> 
> And just in time for spooky season, too!


End file.
